


thursday evening

by followsrabbit



Series: together again [4]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:46:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followsrabbit/pseuds/followsrabbit
Summary: Noora can't remember the last time she felt so warm.(Set during 4x10, a few hours after William's clip.)





	thursday evening

It’s the first day of summer, and the sun is still beaming late into the afternoon, early into the evening. Noora can feel it heating her hair and warming her skin; warming William’s skin.

(She murmured as much to him just a few minutes ago after exiting the corner store with a bag of toilet paper for Linn. “You’re so warm,” she said, twining her fingers with his.

William leaned down to whisper his lips—also warm—across her earlobe. “I thought I was cold—” a kiss “—manipulative—” another kiss, pressed into her neck this time “—selfish.”

Noora shook her head, rolled her eyes, and turned her chin until she was kissing him back. “No. Just warm.”)

Everything is sunlight and stillness, even the silence that passes between them as they stroll down the sidewalk. It’s an easy quiet. Easier than Noora knew quiet could be, growing up. In her childhood, in that small town and that small house, quiet meant disinterest. In Madrid, in that large city and that looming flat, it meant loneliness.

“William,” she says a few moments later. Silence with William is content; easy to share, easy to break, easy to fill.

Still holding her hand, he tucks her against his side. “Mhm?”

She’s pretty sure that they look like one of Vilde’s chick lit romance novel covers right now, or maybe an online dating ad. Noora relaxes against him anyway, and squints up at the bright sky. The lighting is good enough for either.

“Do you miss London?”

Noora does not. Noora doubts she ever will. London is so rarely warm in her memories, so often drizzling and cool and the wrong kind of quiet.

William doesn't pause, doesn't even blink before answering, “No.”

“No?”

His fingers tighten around hers. “London doesn’t have anything I need.”

Noora kisses him again, longer this time, her smile spreading against his. It’s a good kiss, good enough that she doesn’t want to break away to hem and haw and finally ask, “Not your father?” The question puts a few inches of distance between their faces.

When William shrugs, she feels the hike of his shoulder against her own muscles. “If he wanted a relationship with me, I wouldn’t have to move there for it.”

Personally, she dislikes William’s father—the way he talks down to William and looks down on the world, the way he so clearly looked at _her_ as a pretty souvenir that William had lugged all the way from Oslo—but none of that bears repeating just now.

“He must be proud of you for applying to law school.” She is. Insanely proud. So proud that she wants to hug him all over again for it, right here on the sidewalk. William is going to do amazing thing, going to put all his intelligence to incredible use, going to fill his life with so much more meaning than he could have found in his dad's office.

Silence again. Not content this time, but hesitant. Building towards—“My father cut me off for applying to law school.”

Surprise almost trips Noora right off the curb and into the street, but William pulls her back. Pulls her closer, his arm around her waist.

“I might need to find a new place,” he adds, one corner of his mouth twitching with inexplicable humor.

Her own lips falls apart as she blinks and stares and grips his hand all the more tightly. “Your father…” A shake of her head. “ _When_?” He knows she’s not asking about the flat.

William runs his free fingers through his hair. “Ten minutes ago, while you were in the store.”

“I was only going for a few minutes!”

“It was a quick text.”

A new, unpleasant heat steals across her cheeks and throat. _Hate_. She hates William’s father. “What did you say back?”

Fishing a hand into his pocket, William pulls out his phone for her, and slants the screen into her view.

“ _Whatever,_ ” she reads. It’s only one word, but it feels huge on her tongue, like a piece of cake or melon that she could have cut one more time before chewing. “Whatever?”

He tucks his phone away again, shakes his head. “Noora, it doesn’t matter. It’s just money.”

“You love your money.”

“I love you.” He buries his lips into her hair for just a second. “I like money. And I’ll like it more when it’s mine," another second, another kiss to her temple, "not his."

“William Magnusson,” she starts, then trails off to curl her palms along his cheeks, to make him meet her gaze. Every bit of pride that unfurled in her ribs when he told her about his law school application bursts all over again, straight to her tongue. “I am... so damn in love with you.”

Even though they’re still on a city sidewalk, even though she’s still holding a bag of toilet paper, Noora pulls him towards the nearest wall and wraps her arms around his neck until there’s not a bit of space separating them. Until there’s only the quiet pulse of her heart and his.

William teases that quiet away when they pull apart a minute later. “You're not with me for my money then?”

“No.” Noora presses her lips together, almost unable to believe she’s _smiling_ right now, when half of her wants nothing more than to fly to London and scream at William’s father. “I think I fell in love with you _despite_ your money.”

Within a second, she can feel him grinning against her cheek. “So damn in love with me?”

She rolls her eyes, but can’t stop her curved lips from curving even more.

* * *

 When they reach her flat, they stall by the door, still connected by their hands and hips. “You should come inside,” Noora urges, even though it was awkward the last time he saw Eskild and Linn. Because of that awkwardness, maybe. Because her flatmates don’t know what actually happened in London, and need to see that William isn’t the asshole they’ve built him into over the last eight months. “Say hi.”

(There will need to be an actual conversation about it sometime soon, just the three of them, where she explains the truth. All of it. Even if it makes them think less of her, mad at her, for the lies she told them after London. For now, she just wants to remind them that they _liked_ William before she moved out of their flat and into his.)

William squints at the door. He doesn’t have to speak, doesn’t even have to look at her, for her to feel his dubiousness.

"Come on.” Hand still clutching his, she pulls him inside with her once she opens the door. “You’re my boyfriend, you can’t avoid my flat forever.”

(He doesn’t answer, but he does come with her, which is pretty much the same thing.)

           


End file.
